


The Wounds that Test Your Flesh

by 401



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Caretaking, F/M, First Aid, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 18:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6249976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/401/pseuds/401
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve returns from a mission bruised and broken. Bucky puts it right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wounds that Test Your Flesh

“You’re injured,” Bucky muttered flatly, nudging Steve’s shoulder gently to get him to lie down flat on the couch.

“S’nothing,” Steve grunted, gritting his teeth as every muscle in his left side seized around his broken ribs like a snake around a rat.

Bucky assessed him silently, not touching him, just scanning what he could see from his position next to Steve. Calm, level, methodical.

“I can get Banner; you might need stitches. A splint on that wrist maybe,” Natasha offered, standing up to get a better look at Steve’s left hand.

His knuckled were purple and scraped to the bone. The joint of his wrist was swollen and bent just slightly out of the alignment it was used to. Tony winced at it, taking another bite of his sandwich as he moved in next to Natasha, joining the circle around the injured Captain.

“You know,” he started over a mouthful of pastrami, “Masturbation is a lot less dangerous when…”

“Shut up, Tony,” Steve mumbled, covering his face with his non-broken hand and sighing through the dizziness and nausea that was slowly creeping over him.

The mission had been a difficult one. He had been caught unawares, with only him and Clint over enemy lines at the time. Everyone else had been given orders to retreat. They had not had a choice.

“How’re you holding up over there, Birdy?” Nat called to Clint.

He raised a thumbs up and grinned, exposing a missing front tooth.

“I’m golden,” he chuckled, “Painkillers have kicked in.”  


Steve nodded and winced as Bucky pushed a pillow under his shoulder and started unpeeling the blood stained Stealth Suit from his chest.

“A bit of warning is nice, Buck,” Steve hissed through the stinging of fibres pulling out of burned skin, “That grenade hit me pretty close.”  


Bucky nodded, distracted completely by the new task at hand. He could see the damage. A few metal splinters, numerous cuts and bruises and a patch of burns over his shoulder that was already starting to skin over.

“Romanov, can you get me that suture and gauze kit from under the kitchen counter please? And some rubbing alcohol,” Bucky asked quietly, the look of concentration on his face completely unmoving as he started pulling the tiny pieces of metal and glass out of Steve’s skin.

His fingers worked quickly and precisely, fast enough that Steve barely felt even the bigger pieces as they slipped out of his skin. Bucky would mutter an occasional apology under his breath when Steve winced, frowning in concentration as he altered the pressure of his metal fingertips to ensure the pieces came out whole.

Steve found himself oddly relaxed, despite the throbbing taking over most of his left side. This was the closest Bucky had gotten to him since he had returned three months ago. Steve could not deny the comfort that it was giving him.

Everyone could see it. Natasha nudged Tony and gestured subtly to the two of them, Steve lying on the couch and Bucky kneeling next to him, one hand on Steve’s forehead and the other wiping alcohol over the cuts and grazes in gentle sweeps. Tony made the shape of a heart with his thumbs and positioned it around them, earning a small slap from Natasha.

“God, that stings,” Steve groaned, lifting away from the alcohol as Bucky went over a particularly deep patch of burn.

Bucky frowned and swapped his hands, putting cold metal fingers over the wound and wiping his flesh fingers before carding them back through Steve’s hair, pushing the sweat dampened strands off of his forehead.

Steve stayed still, not wanting to disturb the new affectionate state Bucky had fallen into. It felt incredible. It was everything he had missed. Every time a mission went wrong, whether he was injured or just left needing some comfort, he had never been able to find any. Because it was not Bucky. There were times when only Bucky would do, no one else would be able to console him. He had missed it so bitterly for so many years that getting that comfort now was like breathing after being held under.

“This is going to ache,” Bucky warned, “Just let me take your weight.”

Steve nodded, stifling a sob of pain and Bucky lifted him into an awkward sitting position to clean the cuts further back on his shoulder.

Despite having his suit pulled down to his waist in the air-conditioned room, Steve was on fire, uncomfortably warm to the point of nausea. Bucky’s hands were freezing against his skin and it was the only thing stopping the pain being unbearable.

“You don’t have to do this, Bucky,” Steve said quietly, closing his eyes and relaxing couch again as Bucky’s attention turned to his wrist.

He put an instant cold pack from the kit on the joint and wrapped a length of bandage around it to secure it. When he was finished, he sat back on his heels, a stillness coming over him that contrasted the methodical purpose of moments before.

The rest of the Avengers had dispersed, Clint taking to bed to nurse his injuries, Nat going with his to keep watch and Tony busying himself with new blueprint’s for Bucky’s arm.

“I do,” Bucky said flatly, frowning and locking his hands in his lap anxiously.

Steve wondered if the metal one ever accidentally hurt the flesh one, scraping to roughly or squeezing too hard. With Steve, Bucky was incredibly gentle, but his own skin was littered with little bruises and marks where he forgot his own strength. Steve wished that he would take the same caution with himself as he did with everyone else.

“I want to take care of you,” Bucky continued, looking up at Steve, “I haven’t felt…empathy for so long. It scared me at first, suddenly caring about people and having something to lose.”

Steve nodded, keeping his eyes closed. Bucky could tell he was listening intently despite appearances so he kept going.

“You’re the worst. No, the best. Whatever. I care about you the most, so you scare me the most, but it also means I want to protect you the most. Which is good, I suppose.”

Steve smiled at the less than eloquent explanation and rose his good hand, cupping Bucky’s cheek clumsily with sleep-dulled reflexes. The couch he was lying on seemed to rock underneath him and slowly his thoughts became slow and lazy, making less and less sense.

“You’re special, Buck,” Steve whispered, “I mean that.”

Bucky smiled and squeezed Steve’s hand gently before placing it back on his stomach to keep him still. He knew he meant it. He was always honest.


End file.
